The Healing
by AllzStar
Summary: Lyle House. Not much to say about it. The kids in it? Now that's a different story. How was I supposed to know I was being sent to a home for kids with supernatural powers? And am I really one of them? OC. Rated T for coarse language.
1. Lyle House & Losers

**The Healing**

_AllzStar_

- One -

The house looked harmless enough, with its welcoming white paint and cute little garden in the front. But I knew I would hate it. It would become a worse prison than my house. I would learn to loathe it with every fibre of my being, and then I would blast it apart, bit by bit, until nothing remained but a pile of ashes. Would they know it was me? I doubted it. Lyle House was a place for crazy freaks—there was bound to be at least one other kid who could blow up a house. Right?

Wrong. I was one of them. Sure, the kids there had some anger issues or were a little messed in the head, but that could change. They get in, they get drugged up, they get fixed, they get out. I definitely needed some form of anger management, but somehow I didn't think that would stop the massive power surges that made strange things happen around me when I get angry. Last time I had a meltdown and the reason I was here, something else _literally _melted down—my dad's new car. The world-famous Eclipse. Gone. Smouldered right into the ground, molten metal forever encased in the pavement. Of course it wasn't me. But just because I was standing there screaming at him my Dad just automatically blamed the exploding car on me. My punishment? Five hours locked in the closet and three months at Lyle House. Charming.

Speaking of charming, the inside of the house was even more sickeningly sweet than the outside. Blue couches? Flowers on every surface? Barf. I hated cheeriness. I wasn't one of those Goth chicks, but I definitely wasn't all smiles or anything near peppy or cute.

The woman that had introduced herself as Mrs Talbot was leading my Dad and I through the house, chattering away about the benefits of having your teen safe in Lyle House, how many successful cases there were after a term here, blah, blah, blah.

I flanked my dad, letting him handle all the formalities, and tried to peek around the two adults for any other signs of life. So far, I hadn't seen any kids. I didn't know how many lived here, or even if it was co-ed. I really hoped there were guys. There had to be _some_thing interesting about this place or I would die before the week was over.

Finally, after about ten minutes of pointless conversation, my Dad left, without so much as a hug but only a gruff "Bye, Jules". He left, and I waited until I heard the familiar roar of his old wrangler jeep drive away before moving so much as an inch.

"Well," said Talbot, fixing me with what she thought was a pleasant smile. "Shall I show you to your room? Do you need help with your bag?"

"I got it," I grumbled, shouldering my duffel bag and heading for the stairs. I let her take the lead at the landing, since I had no idea where we were going.

"The other staircase is for the boys only," she explained as we walked down a hallway.

_Yes, _I thought. _Co-ed. Fun times might actually be had._

"You can visit them in their room during the day but you need to ask permission first. Absolutely no night time visits, is that clear?" She looked at me pointedly, as if she thought I was just the type of girl to do such a thing. What bothered me was that I was. I hated being readable. Life's no fun that way.

"I got it. No sexual company."

She scowled, but the frown vanished as we approached a painted door. "Here we are. Chloe's in a therapy session right now but I'm sure she'd be happy to show you around when she's finished."

I raised my eyebrows. "Who's Chloe?"

"Your roommate, dear."

Christ. I didn't know we'd have roomies here. All the joy I'd felt earlier about guys being present vanished. This place was going to suck.

"For now you can settle in here and unpack your bags and such," Talbot was saying. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

When she was gone, I very nearly slammed the door and tossed my duffle onto the empty bed, then threw myself on it as well. I lay on my side and observed the other half of the room, the half that belonged to this Chloe chick. Her bed was neatly made and her pyjamas were folded on top of the pillow. There were three books stacked on the shelf over the bed, along with a few photo frames containing what I guessed was pictures of her friends and family. All of her other possessions must have been stuffed in her closet. Curious to find out more about my new roommate, I got up and went over to the closet.

It irritated me that the inside of her closet was just the same as the outside: neat and tidy and clean. All her clothes were hung up on hangers, her shoes lined up neatly against the far wall, her suitcase stored under some storage bins. I grunted and began sifting through her clothing, checking the labels. You can always tell what kind of person a girl is by looking at the clothes she wore. This Chloe had clothes from Abercrombie & Fitch, American Eagle, Hollister…the real big, expensive labels. I smirked. So she was one of _those. _The small-brained, flirty kind with the attention span of a goldfish. This was going to be a long three months.

I sighed and backed out of the closet.

"Find anything interesting?" someone asked.

I gasped and spun around.

A girl was sitting on the edge of the my bed. She was thin in the extreme—so tiny she looked almost breakable. Her hair, I noted with a smug sense of disapproval—was blonde and streaked with a sickeningly bright red colour. She had her hands under her thighs and was swinging her legs back and forth, kicking the frame of the bed.

"Chloe, I presume?" I asked, hoping she would catch the sarcasm dripping from my words.

She didn't reply, only stared at me with big, doe-like blue eyes. Her round little face, her tiny mouth, her wide eyes, her tiny figure—I instantly hated everything about her. But I liked playing with what I hated. "You're a label girl, huh?"

Her pale eyebrows lowered and she tilted her head to the side. "Hmm?"

"All your clothes are from the big-time label companies. You're a label girl."

She jumped up, brushed past me and pushed her closet door clothes. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out of my stuff. Thanks."

"Too late," I sniffed, and went to sit cross-legged on my bed. "I'm Jules."

"Jules?" she repeated, perching on the edge of her mattress, facing me.

"You know, Jules—short for Juliette? But I don't like being called that."

"I wouldn't." Chloe picked at a loose thread on her jeans. "Sorry," she mumbled, so softly I couldn't hear her. "That was rude."

"Don't worry about it. If you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit rude myself." I grinned, but she didn't return the favour. Instead, she just stood up and headed for the door.

"Come on," she tossed over her shoulder. "Let me show you around."

--

Nope, there wasn't much more to it at all. The media room was lame, the kitchen far too cheery (just like the rest of the place) and the backyard fenced off. The whole place was under an alarm system, and the nurses acted as if it was the best effing security system in the world. I bet I could diffuse it in two seconds if I really wanted to. But breaking out wouldn't get me anywhere but stuck in here or in some mental hospital for even longer. I was willing to be good to get out—it was only three months of utter boredom, right? How hard could that be?

Harder than I thought, considering who my housemates were.

I had never seen a bigger bunch of losers. There were two guys and three girls, four including me.

The guys were so disappointing I actually felt as if a weight had been dropped on me. Sure, Simon was cute, but he made such an effort to be nice to me he turned me off right away. I didn't even consider Derek, Simon's foster brother. I really couldn't appreciate a guy with acne. Not to mention his dark hair covered most of his face and was greasy as an oil slick. He was tall, broad shouldered, and even ruder than me. And that was saying something.

The other two girls besides Chloe were almost equally as disappointing. There was Rachelle, or Rae, as she preferred. She seemed okay. The only thing I had against her at this point was that she was pretty. Too pretty. Like, model material. Sure, she was a little on the chubby side, but I really didn't like girls who were naturally pretty.

Tori. To me, any girl named Tori was trouble. I knew two of them back home, and both of them made me want to puke. This one was no exception. She was worse than Chloe with her labels, and her short hairstyle and artificial black dye made her look like a zombie. She had a long nose, freckled cheeks and a generous amount of mid-section; less fat than Rae, more fat than me.

Chloe was in a completely different league as far as size went. I towered over her at six-foot-seven, though I liked being at least seven inches taller than her. In fact, I was the tallest girl there. Tori hovered about an inch under me, and Rae had to be about five four. Simon was my exact height, but Derek won the size game by a full six inches. He had to be about six two.

I leaned against the counter in the kitchen and bit into an apple, watching as the losers went about their boring, messed up lives. None of the girls talked to me. Chloe seemed to be joined at the hip with Rae; Simon and Derek took off together before I could have a decent conversation with either of them (not that I really wanted anything to do with Derek). Tori hung back by herself, but she seemed glad of it. She sat at the table with her binder open, scribbling something onto a page. After a few minutes of painful silence, I tossed my apple core and breezed from the room, deciding even Derek's company must have been better than the girls'.

Wrong. Derek was a total asshole and booked it as soon as I walked into the media room. What bothered me more was that the brothers abruptly stopped the deep conversation they had been having as soon as I passed over the threshold. But I was grateful to be alone with Simon. Sure, he was too nice, but he seemed to be my best bet at surviving this place.

"Hey," I said, crossing the room and plunking down on the sofa facing the TV.

Simon spun around in the office chair, fiddling with a silver band on his middle finger. "Hi," he replied, smiling at me. "What's up?"

"I'm bored of this place already. What do you guys do for fun around here, anyway?" I muted the TV and flipped through the channels, my gaze flipping from the screen to him and back again.

He laughed. "I asked myself that for weeks when I first got here."

"Weeks?" I asked, my eyebrows rising. "How long have you been here for?"

"A couple of months. Four, actually."

"God. How can you stand it?"

He had taken the ring off his finger now and was toying aimlessly with it. "It isn't so bad. Having Derek here with me helps, I guess. I dunno who I'd talk to if he wasn't. And with Peter gone, I'd be the only guy. And _that _would be something to bitch about."

I laughed. "I picked up on some bitch vibes from those girls right away."

"Chloe and Rae are fine," Simon replied very quickly, as if defending them. "Tori's a pain in the ass, though."

"Figured that out already. Didn't take too long."

He chuckled softly, but his smile soon faded. He had slumped in his chair; his eyes were now fixated on his ring. He didn't say anything for a long time, but I was content to just sit there flipping through channels and try to find something that wasn't foreign or news.

"I've gotta go," he said suddenly. Before I could reply he rose and left the room.


	2. Vomit & Rats

**The Healing**

_AllzStar_

- Two -

When the dinner bell rang, I hung back for a few minutes, determined not to be the first one there. I didn't have to worry, though—I was the last one in after two minutes of waiting. Chloe was sitting beside Derek with Rae on her other side. Simon sat beside Derek, and Tori was next to him. That left me with the only empty seat next to Tori. Great.

I reluctantly sat down and helped myself to the steak and mashed potatoes that were gathered on plates in the center of the table. The nurses hovered around us, helping us with our food and eating their own. After about five minutes of fussing that royally pissed me off, the nurses left, and conversations began to spring up.

Chloe seemed to be locked in a deep conversation with Derek, Simon and Rae; the four of them kept their voices so low I couldn't hear them. Tori was trying to take part in it, but Simon gave her the cold shoulder. I smirked as I watched her efforts. It was typical for a girl like her to immediately start scoping out the guys. Not that the selection was peachy keen. I knew I wasn't gonna have any flings here.

Since the others seemed determined to leave us out of their amazing conversation, they left Tori and I to pick at our food in silence. I couldn't think of anything to say to her that would start a conversation, and actually, I didn't want to. I was perfectly content to keeping to myself, even if it meant not speaking for three months.

But Tori couldn't keep her mouth shut for long. "Don't you _hate_ being _excluded_ from things?" she asked me in a voice loud enough for the others to hear. "I mean, that's one thing, but for a group of people to purposefully _isolate _others? That's just _rude_."

"Whatever," I said, popping a piece of meat into my mouth. "It's not like their conversation is even super-interesting." Suddenly, though, I really did want to know what they were talking about. I hated thinking that the kids here had actually bonded. That there were friends here. I thought it was a 'get in, get out' thing. If there were cliques here, I was doomed. And I definitely did not want to get lumped in with Tori.

After dinner, I headed off to my room. Since it was my first day here, I hadn't been assigned any chores yet. Yes, yet another thing to make this place a living hell: everyone had chores that needed to be completed within half an hour every day. Lame.

I blasted my iPod as I curled up on my bed, staring at Chloe's side of the room without really seeing it. I already hated it here. The kids were stuck-up, the beds were uncomfortable, we needed to do chores and schoolwork, and there was nothing to do during the little free time we received. And I was expected to survive _three months_ here? Fat chance.

I think I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again it was dark outside. I also didn't know what had woken me up. That was until I heard a noise; a strange sort of rustling, as if someone was sifting through a bag of clothing.

I propped myself up on my elbow and squinted into the darkness. With almost no light, I could barely see, but I could see enough to know that Chloe was not in her bed. One quick look at the room told me she was not here at all.

I felt a satisfying smugness as I climbed out of bed. So Chloe wasn't the good girl I had typecast her as. Maybe she had snuck over to the guys' side of the house and was fooling around over there. The way she had been talking to Derek and Simon, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

That didn't explain the noise, though. Rats? Oh, God. If there were rats, I was calling my dad. If there was one thing I will not stand, it was rats. I didn't care if I had to break out myself. I was not living in a house with rats.

I didn't have to summon the courage to get out of bed and check it out—I wasn't the kind of girl who got skittish when there were strange noises at night. In fact, I barely ever got scared. My Dad always said there was a logical explanation for everything, and he was always right.

I tiptoed from the room, ignoring the fact that leaving the rooms at night was forbidden. It was time for some fun, and I wasn't going to sit on my ass if Chloe was having a good time.

The floor boards were creaky, so I tried stepping as lightly as I could so as not to disturb any sleeping bodies. I passed Rae and Tori's room and heard a dull droning sound—snoring? I held back a giggle. I would have to razz Tori from snoring in the morning. At least I hoped it was Tori that was snoring—anything that I could use against her was gold.

For once, there was no logical explanation for the scrambling noise. It followed me down the hallway and the stairs. When I was standing in the dimly lit kitchen, I could still hear it. How was it that the same noise was all over the house? And no one else heard it?

I quickly inspected the kitchen, and it didn't take long before I found the half-open cupboard. The pantry door stood almost ajar, and just by looking at it I knew it had been raided. There were two empty boxes of granola bars, five apples missing and a bunch of wrappers and discarded tinfoil.

My curiosity pricked, I retreated from the kitchen. As I was crossing the hallway towards the guys' staircase, the noise changed. It went from a scrambling to a gross, humane sound—like a coughing, retching noise. I backed away from the staircase. I really didn't want to walk in on one of the guys vomiting. Vomit and rats. Those were the two things I hated most in the world.

But still, the retching sound followed me everywhere. I went all over the house, even the laundry room in the basement, and I could still here it. It got so bad I almost gagged myself. _I have to figure out what that noise is and get it to stop, _I thought as I leaned over the sink in the kitchen.

I looked out the window above the sink, which was stupid because it was pitch black outside and all I saw was my dim reflection. I sighed at my messy hair. Black was my natural colour, but I had dyed it white-blonde at the end of last year. I had dyed it black again a few months ago when I got tired of being labelled as dumb. People take one look at a blonde and think "Stupid". But I wasn't. In fact, I got some of the best grades in my class. And I didn't even have to try very hard.

My eyes were rimmed with bruise-like shadows, and I rubbed my pasty white face as if that would help me looked less tired and ghostly. The reason why I had dyed my hair blonde was because the black hair made me look so pale and dead. But I would rather look like a zombie than be labelled stupid. My doe-eyes did nothing to help either look. They were large, wide and almond-shaped, giving that permanent stunned look that I detested. My eyes were normally bright green, but lately they had darkened to a disgusting mud-brown. They liked to change colour.

A flash of white outside caught my attention. In a moment it was gone, but I had definitely seen it. It had looked like a t-shirt. A white t-shirt? I squinted and pressed my face against the glass. I could just make out a small white shape sticking out from behind the shed in the backyard. A shoe? Why was there a shoe outside—?

The hall light snapped on upstairs. I whirled and lunged for the island, barely making it behind the counter before whoever was awake began descending the stairs. I prayed they wouldn't come into the kitchen, and breathed a sigh of relief when they didn't. The person switched on another light, and light flooded the backyard. A shadow was cast on the wall, and I saw the person there—a woman, by the looks of it. She was short but not skinny, and her hair was drawn in a tight knot at the back of her head. Dr. Gill? What was she doing here? I had thought she went home at the end of every day.

I peered around the island. It was Dr. Gill, and she was currently fiddling with the alarm at the back door. I wondered if she heard the retching noise, like I did. Maybe she had heard it, too, and was investigating, just like I was. Should I tell her what I had seen outside? That the pantry had been raided? I began to stand up, but when I heard her voice I immediately dropped back down.

"Who's out there?" she called. She had stepped onto the back porch, but had left the back door open. "I know you're there. Come out now! Don't test me; I know you're out there, Derek Souza!"

My eyebrows shot up. So Derek was missing, too. Hmm. Derek and Chloe, both missing from their beds in the middle of the night, hanging out in the backyard in complete blackness…I shuddered. I hadn't thought Chloe was _that _desperate. But then again, I definitely hadn't cast her as the type to go for guys like Derek. In fact, I thought she'd be the kind of girl to avoid guys like him all together. But maybe I had been wrong for once.

When no one replied, Dr. Gill called out more threatening crap. As if that would help. Judging by Derek's size alone, if she got too much on his nerves he could crush her with one blow from his meaty fist.

Dr. Gill had ventured further into the backyard, and I saw a flashlight beam snap on. She still hadn't closed the door. Taking my opportunity, I ran across the kitchen, keeping to a low crouch so she wouldn't be able to see me through the window. I crept out the door, wincing as the chilly air hit me. I was only wearing my red plaid pyjama bottoms and a thin black tank top.

I darted to the shadows beside the porch and headed right for the shed. As I rounded the corner, I opened my mouth to yell at the sight of Chloe and Derek fooling around. Instead, I clapped my hand over my mouth to silence my scream of horror.

Derek and Chloe were together, alright, but not in the way I had expected. Chloe was kneeling down beside Derek, who was on all fours, puking his guts out. His white t-shirt was drenched with sweat, and I tried not to notice the vomit that coated the fence. Chloe had one of her tiny hands on his back and was rubbing it in small circles, but she kept glancing over her shoulder.

It finally clicked that the sound I had been hearing for about a half an hour had been Derek barfing, but I didn't know why I had been able to hear it loud and clear everywhere. And judging by the fact that Dr. Gill was still scouting the area like an idiot with her flashlight, she couldn't hear him at all. It made no sense.

No more sense than the scene before me did.

I opened my mouth, but Chloe had looked up, seen me, and lunged at me so fast my breath was cut off. Her tiny hand clamped itself on my mouth and she steered me into the shelter of the shed. I stayed as far away from the retching guy as I possibly could, the stench of vomit making my stomach churn.

"Don't ask questions," Chloe whispered so softly I had to strain to hear her. "Do exactly as I say, do you understand? _Exactly _what I say. No crap, no talking, no nothing. Got it?"

I only nodded. I was afraid that if I inhaled and more vomit I would be sick too. I gestured to Derek with my head, but Chloe only muttered "Later" and went back to comforting him. I crouched by the edge of the shed, hardly daring to peer around the edge but wanting to make sure Dr. Gill wasn't heading this way. All of a sudden I was in adventure mode; obviously Chloe and Derek were planning on something, and I wanted in if that was the case.

I tapped Chloe on the shoulder and mouthed "Gill" when she looked at me. Her eyes grew wide and she nudged Derek, who had finally stopped barfing and was now lying on his side, his expansive chest heaving. I finally noticed that his size had not been fat, but muscle. He was _ripped. _I still couldn't believe Chloe had gone for him, but now I knew that there was at least one reason.

Ignoring Derek's silent protest, Chloe removed one of her shoes, grabbed one of Derek's, and smudged dirt on her face. I caught her eye and gave her my best "You've-got-to-be-kidding-me" look as she darted around the side of the shed.

I turned to Derek, who had finally seen me. Before I could utter a sound, he lunged at me, knocking me into the shed, making more noise than I was comfortable with. I struggled against his grip as he pinned me there, one hand over my mouth. But I was no match for his brawn and soon gave up. I tried to look everywhere but his face; his mouth still had some vomit at the corners.

I heard Chloe coming up with some bad tale of her and Derek coming out here to be alone. I was pretty relieved when I realized they hadn't actually been fooling around out here. When Dr. Gill refused to believe her, Chloe's stutter kicked in, and I bit back a laugh. I didn't know why I didn't like Chloe; there was just something about her that bugged me.

Suddenly, faster than I could process, Derek was off of me and on top of Dr. Gill. I stepped out from behind the shed to see Chloe checking the doctor's pulse, heard her mutter "She's okay", and then place her own shoe on her foot. As she and Derek ran towards me, I opened my mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but they brushed right by me, heading for the fence.

"No way," I mumbled when Chloe gestured to me to follow them. "If this is an escape plan, count me out. And there is no way I'm touching that fence," I added as I took in the vomit.

Derek came at me so fast I was backed against the shed. "You almost botched the whole thing right now, and we are not letting you stay behind to sell us at. So you can bet your ass that you sure as hell are coming with us. Now get going."

I would have spit in his face if an angry voice hadn't called out at that moment. Quick as a flash, Derek was practically throwing Chloe over the fence. When she was over, he crouched on top of the fence, his hand extended towards me. I remained where I was and glared at him. His nostrils flared as he fixed me with an equally angry scowl. I shrank back. If looks could kill…

_Whatever_, I thought. _I'll just come back here in the morning and explain the whole thing, tell them that this wasn't my fault, that I was forced into it._

Thinking that, I ran to Derek, slapping my hand into his. He began to pull me up—and I'll admit I was impressed that he managed to lift a one-hundred-and-twenty pound girl with one arm—and onto the fence, but halfway up the bottom of my pyjama bottoms got snagged on something on the fence. Derek tugged on me, nearly ripping my arm off, but the fabric wouldn't give. I shot a look on his face, and his expression clearly suggested he would have been happy to just drop me and take off. But he didn't. He kept trying to pull me up, until—

Hands grabbed at my waist, and before I knew it my hand was ripped free from Derek's and I was being forced to the ground. I barely had to scream at him to go before he was gone over the fence. Despite my dislike for both Derek and Chloe, I hoped they got away okay.

I barely struggled against the people's grip—there were four of them, Talbot and the younger nurse, Van Dop, and a man and a woman I didn't recognize—but they still sedated me. I felt the prick of the needle and was out in a matter of seconds.


	3. Gymnastics & Insulin

**The Healing**

_AllzStar_

- Three -

When I woke up, I was not in my room at Lyle House. In fact, I was pretty sure I wasn't at Lyle House at all. I was lying in a huge bed, surrounded by cushions and a soft, warm comforter. I pushed myself onto my elbows and winced as my head rushed. I wondered just how much drug they had sedated me with to make me feel this out of it. The crook of my arm on the inside of my elbow stung, and I absently scratched at it. When I pulled my fingers away my fingers were smeared with blood. I looked at my arm and gasped. I must have struggled more than I remembered, because there was a two-inch gash where the needle had run. I wondered why they hadn't put a bandage on it.

I got out of the bed and nearly toppled over. I perched myself on the edge of the bed and placed my head on my knees, breathing deeply, trying to quench the terrible nausea that had overcome me. Then I began to wonder how long I had been asleep for.

When I felt a bit better, I crept around the room, as if trying to find an escape. When I saw that there obviously wasn't one, I went back to bed, hoping that a few more hours of sleep would make me feel one-hundred percent. I was out before my head hit the pillow.

--

For a long time I did absolutely nothing—I sat in my room whiling away the hours with thoughts of Chloe and Derek and wondering if they got away okay. I also thought about Tori and Simon and Rae. Had they known about Chloe and Derek's plan? Were they still at Lyle House? Or had they been moved to this mental hospital, too (I had come to the conclusion that that was where I was: a mental hospital)?

It felt like an eternity before an old man came into the room, followed by a blonde woman who was the perfect stereotypical tight-ass bitch.

"Good morning, Juliette," said the old man in a kindly voice; I wasn't going to fall for the kind old man act, though. "I never got to meet you at Lyle House, so I would like to take this opportunity to introduce myself. I am Dr. Davidoff, and I'm in charge of the goings-on at Lyle House."

"Where am I?" I demanded, waving away his useless chatter. "Where are Simon and Tori and Rae?"

"That's what we were hoping you could tell us," the blonde woman snapped, stepping around Dr. Davidoff to face me.

"Hmm?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Where are Simon and Derek?" she spat, moving so close to me her face was inches from mine.

I scrambled away from her and buried myself into the covers on my bed. I think she would have liked to drag me from the bed and kick me to the floor, but Dr. Davidoff intervened.

"Juliette," he began, his voice infuriatingly sweet, "can you please tell us where Derek and Simon are?"

"I wouldn't if I could," I replied with venom, scowling up at him and his blonde companion. "I didn't even know they were missing."

"Liar," the blonde woman hissed, her eyes narrowing. "We saw Derek trying to pull you up onto the fence last night. We caught you and Chloe and Rae, but the boys got away."

"I wasn't a part of the whole escape deal," I explained, my voice rising in pitch. "I just went outside to see what the hell was going on, and then Chloe and Derek were forcing me to come along. Next thing I knew I was being pulled down from the fence and sedated." I glared at both of them, hoping they'd cringe at the accusing tone of my voice.

Not a chance. Dr. Davidoff leaned towards me. "I'm afraid we can't believe you, Juliette—"

"Jules," I growled.

"—because we caught you red-handed. Perhaps you hadn't been a part of the initial planning of this escape, but you attempted to get away. The crime was committed no matter what you say to defend yourself."

"You're in trouble and there's no getting out of it," the blonde woman translated impatiently. "And you're going to tell us where Simon and Derek are or—"

"Or what?" I demanded, standing on my bed. "You'll give me a time-out? Give me extra chores and homework? Hell-o, this is a home for crazy kids! And you don't want to have to deal with me when I get angry."

"Is that a threat, Juliette?" the blonde woman asked sarcastically, drawing out my full name on her tongue to piss me off. "I'm afraid we can do a lot more than put you in a time out, you little brat. We're no longer at Lyle House anymore, after all."

"Enough, Diane," Dr. Davidoff said, pushing the woman back behind him. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Juliette. But we do need to know where the boys are, Simon in particular."

"Why Simon in particular?" I asked. I couldn't help but feel a tinge worried about the blond boy now.

Diane held up a backpack and pulled out a hoodie, a sketch pad and a small nylon pouch. "Simon dropped this trying to escape. This pouch contains his insulin—if he doesn't get it back in a matter of days he'll—"

"He won't die," I snapped, plucking the pouch from her fingers. "I'm a diabetic, too. He'll be sick, and if it gets bad enough, go into a diabetic coma. But you're stupid if you think that this was Simon's only diabetic kit. All diabetics carry two at all times, one in their pocket and one close by. This has got to be Simon's back-up."

I swear Diane turned purple with rage. She lunged at me, but I dove out of her way, landing on my bed, still clutching Simon's extra insulin pouch. I leapt off the bed and ducked under Dr. Davidoff's arm as he tried to stop me. I sprinted for the door, which they had stupidly left open. I was faced with a long, narrow hallway. Hanging a right, I bolted down the hallway.

I never thought I would see the day where I was happy to be a diabetic, but today I was. I now knew that Simon was safe. He wasn't a stupid kid; he most likely had his initial insulin pouch with him. Absently, as I ran, I felt my own pockets. Feeling the familiar bulge of my own insulin kit, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I didn't run into any trouble until I came to the elevators. There were several official looking people, and when they saw me they came at me very quickly. Dodging every single one of them by a hair I bolted for the stairs. I flew down five flights of stairs, the people following me all the way.

I also never thought I would ever be happy that my Dad had made me stick with gymnastics after mom left, but today I was very grateful. As I was moving swiftly through a lobby-type room towards the large doors out, an alarm went off and metal sheets began rising up over the doors, trying to seal them. I pushed as hard as I could, making my legs go as fast as they could, and vaulted over the metal sheet over one of the doors. Shoving the door open, I ran faster than I ever had in my life, through a parking lot and down the street. I didn't stop for about five blocks.

When I was sure I had lost them at least temporarily, I leaned against the wall of the open alley I had run into and sank to the ground, panting like a dog. I hadn't even known I could run like that. I also felt a twinge of pride for my vault move—it was probably the most perfect gymnastics move I had ever performed. My Dad would have been proud.

My Dad…did he know that I had been moved to a mental hospital? That I had escaped? Did he know about anything that had happened? Part of me dreaded that he did, and the other part was hoping he would come and rescue me.

Then I was angry. How could they accuse me of trying to escape? How could they sedate me when I didn't even struggle and leave an open needle wound on my arm? How could they move me to a mental hospital and question me about something I clearly didn't even know? How could they play the severe-illness card on me? How could they use Simon's own health against him?

Hot tears sprang up in my eyes and I was too tired to bother blinking them away. I hadn't cried in years, and there was something comforting about feeling the warm trickle of salt water down my cheeks.

A scraping sound to my left caught my attention. I sprang to my feet, ready to run if it was my captors. I advanced slowly into the alley, looking left and right, every nerve in my body completely alert.

Hands wrapped around my waist and I screamed. My shriek was cut short by a hand clamping down over my mouth. I kicked and wiggled as my captor pulled me behind a large dumpster bin and forced me to the ground.

"Jules," someone hissed, their voice close to my ear. "Calm down. It's me."

I stopped struggling long enough to twist and look up. There was Simon, his brown eyes wide, his heart-shaped face smearing with dirt in a cute way. I instantly relaxed and twisted from his grip. I held out his insulin kit. "Here," I said, placing it into his open palm. "They said you dropped this, but I know it's only your spare."

"How?" he asked. I swear I saw his cheeks turn a little pink.

I pulled my own pouch from my pocket and waved it. "We're in the same boat, kid."

A smile broke on his face. "I guess my secret is out, then."

"It's not big deal," I said.

"I guess not," he murmured, shoving his extra pack into his back pocket. "I just get tired of being Simon the diabetic, you know? That's why I was grateful they didn't tell anyone at Lyle House."

"I understand," I sympathised. "I didn't want anyone there to know, either. They just don't need to, you know?"

"Yeah."

We were silent for a moment, just staring at each-other, and then Simon seemed to remember himself. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, it's just that shouldn't you be at Lyle House?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"We've got time. Derek's off getting some snacks for us. Well, me and him." He bit his lip. "You can have my share. It's probably better I don't have any sugar."

"Don't worry about it," I said quickly. "I'll be fine. I barely ever eat anyway."

"Why not?" he demanded, frowning.

I caught the accusing tone in his voice and explained hurriedly that I didn't have an eating disorder; I just didn't eat a lot.

"So what happened after Rae and I took off?" he asked.

"I don't really know. I didn't know there was a plan. I heard Derek barfing—"

"_Barfing?_" Simon interrupted, his fists clenching. "Why was he barfing?"

"I dunno, I was hoping you could tell me," I replied, scratching my arm. I winced when the blood started again.

"What happened to your arm?" Simon asked.

"Chloe was with Derek, though, just rubbing his back while he spewed," I continued, ignoring Simon's question. "When I came outside to find out what was going on, she told me to be quiet and follow her instructions. Then Derek attacked Dr. Gill—"

"Derek _attacked_ Dr. Gill?" Simon gasped. "_Why_?"

"You know all that I do, bud," I said impatiently. "Next thing I know Derek and Chloe are over the fence. Derek tries to help me up, too, but these people pull me down and sedate me. All I remember is seeing Derek disappearing over the fence. When I woke up, I was in a mental hospital. Dr. Davidoff and some woman named Diane came in and started questioning me about you guys. I knew nothing, but they didn't believe me. Then they played the "Simon-has-a-life-threatening-disease-and-is-gonna-die-without-his-meds" card. Diane pulled out your spare insulin kit, and I grabbed it, telling them I was also a diabetic and spoiling their plan by telling them what they already knew—that diabetics always keep a spare. I guess that'll teach them to test a teen's intelligence." I laughed, realising my triumph for the first time. "Oh—and they've got Chloe and Rae, too. I dunno where they are, but I didn't really have time to stop and chat while I was running for my life. Somehow I managed to get out of there…and here we are."

While I was speaking, Simon had laced his fingers with mine. I had ignored it, but hadn't removed my hand from his. When I mentioned Chloe and Rae being trapped inside, he squeezed my hand.

"We've got to get them out of there."

"No way," I said quickly. "Those people are going to do anything to get you and Derek back. Walking into their hands is _not_ a good idea."

"But Chloe—"

"She's a big girl, she'll be fine," I said, waving thoughts of Chloe away. "Right now let's focus on doing…whatever you guys escaped to do."

"Finding my dad," Simon said. "But there's no point on doing anything without Chloe and Rae. We can't just abandon them after they tried so hard to help us. We need them. Well, at least I do. I dunno about Derek. Speaking of which, where is he?"

As if on cue, Derek dropped down from the dumpster bin, earning a shriek from me and a yelp from Simon. He grimaced as he watched us cower, holding hands. I sheepishly pulled my fingers from Simon's and wrapped my arms around myself.

"Nice," Derek muttered. He turned to Simon. "What's she doing here?"

"Well, thanks to you, she got caught trying to escape. She and Chloe and Rae got tossed into a mental hospital. Jules escaped, but Chloe and Rae are still trapped inside."

"Chloe will eventually make her way back to the warehouse," Derek explained in a monotone voice. "Till then we should hang around there for about an hour a day. Find some way of leaving her a message."

"Okay," Simon agreed instantly.

Derek nodded. He surveyed me for a moment before turned away, gesturing for us to follow him. "Right," he said. "Let's move."


End file.
